


Raindrops & Ramen

by JazzRaft



Series: Festive Food Fluffs [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Food Porn, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Nyx is looking forward to a nice little date of what Noctis claims to be "true Lucian food." He's looking forward less so to getting drenched on the way. Always knew Ramuh didn't like him.





	Raindrops & Ramen

**Author's Note:**

> Another festive food fluff challenge with Aithilin! This time to the theme of April showers. And for if you need some fluff to sneak underneath the Easter dinner table like me today ;)

Tredd referred to the Kingsglaive as rats, nibbling on the remains of what the royal family left out for them. Which Nyx regularly resented and had no qualms telling Tredd he did, often getting them both battered and bruised and goofy drunk at the end of an argumentative arena brawl.

Nyx was really glad that Tredd wasn’t there to point and laugh and bark “I told you so” at him today. Because he was feeling about as drowned as the miserable rat of Tredd’s metaphor.

He used to love it. Nyx never used to mind the rain back home because at least those he could always see coming. Whether it was watching storm clouds billowing in off the sea’s horizon or waking up to the smell of rain hidden somewhere behind the mountains, he never had to turn on the TV to know when it was about to storm. Nowadays, he was more used to his Crown City cynicism.

Insomnia’s weather forecasts could be as deceptive as a Niflheim politician – high maintenance as one, too. The weather girl said one thing, and the Wall decided “nah, let’s do the opposite thing.” There were days where incoming precipitation was predicted to slide right off the sides of the city’s great, translucent shoulders. And then there were days which vehemently disproved every TV forecaster’s façade of foresight.

All the magic and science and prophecy in Eos, and Nyx was still left at the mercy of Ramuh’s wheezing bellows. They could predict the end of the world for the past two thousand years, but they couldn’t predict the weather for the next twenty-four hours.

Tredd he wouldn’t forgive for having laughed at his drenched and deplorable state of ratty bedraggle. When it was Noctis giggling on the other side of Nyx’s misfortune… well. Hard to begrudge the gods for granting him such pretty eyes. They lit up like water lights when he laughed, the romance-novel-looking piece of perfect, _ugh_.

“Whatever movie director decided it’s some romantic gateway to self-discovery to go walking in the rain clearly has never done it themselves,” Nyx groused once he’d made it across the street to huddle with Noctis beneath the store awning.

“Pretty sure those scenes are just an excuse to get their actors wet,” Noctis told him in a conspirator’s whisper.

“Wow. Ew. Creepy. That’s creepy, right? Either way, there goes my appetite.”

“Poor try, hero. You’re not getting out of this one.”

Noctis patted his arm and headed inside, holding the door open for him. Nyx couldn’t refuse him the adorably courtly gesture and Noct damn well knew it. Besides that, the sooner Nyx could get out from under Insomnia’s deluge of rain-shaped lies, the happier he would be.

Nyx tried to shake out as much of the rain from his coat as he could outside. He’d hate to be the guy that muddied up the front entrance. He remembered how annoying that job was when he was on the other end of the dining service business. And besides, it was like Libs’ gran always told them: once you were a guest, you left everything at the door. Though, Granny Ostium’s sage wisdom had been intended for emotional baggage, not necessarily Nyx’s soaked-through mental profanities.

They were greeted and seated by a soft-spoken young woman who smelled like jasmine and had a perfect smile that never once faltered with recognition for either prince or glaive. The shop was quiet and calm, sparsely populated with fellow patrons settled into neat little booths, bemoaning the weather and sedately indulging in aromatic bowls of something both Noct and Nyx were drying to try.

Noctis had insisted, after numerous forays into the various wonders of Galahdian street food, that he treat Nyx to some authentic Lucian food on at least one of their dates. It was by no means a simple task, since Lucian food was so densely influenced by a great deal of the culinary conventions of the world. But through a lot of Moogle searching and picking through his memory, Noctis decided that the little soup shop was the best candidate.

It was a quaint little place that Noctis said he recalled passing often on his way home from working the sushi bar. He remembered glancing up from his phone to weave through human transit and make sure he was beneath the right street sign and keeping an eye out for any knives in the crowd, and catching the homey little picture of the place framed in its windows. He remembered always thinking that he should stop in one day, maybe save Ignis the trouble of cooking dinner one night, or make eating a meal easier on himself when he wasn’t up to venturing the kitchen during the days Ignis wasn’t there to be the brave one.

He almost felt guilty, deciding to dine there now, when his old place of employment was only a block or so away. And that, years later, it had ultimately been for Nyx rather than for himself or his friend that Noctis had finally made the excuse to go inside. It didn’t help him feel any less guilty when the soups served there were nothing short of sinful.

Noctis sniffed out the seafood special like, “a ravenous wharf kitten on crab haul day,” Nyx said. When it arrived to the table, he was already salivating from the smell alone. The broth was light in texture but rich in flavor, an opaque brown pool soaking delicate wreaths of golden noodles. Great clumps of crab meat and bright pink shrimp nestled between the curls and folds of fresh pasta. Green onions and spicy peppers and slivers of ginger perfumed the rolls of steam, a pleasant warmth to chase out the damp chill of the rain pricking the windowpane.

“This is nice.”

Noctis paused, just shy of slurping up another twist of fragrant noodles. He smiled – and, by the squinted glare Nyx sent him over the table, failed not to look smug about it. He couldn’t help it. Not when it was his national pride being stroked.

“Wait until Libertus finds out what a little traitor you are,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Add it to the laundry list of crap he’s tried to disown me for already.”

“When was the last time he ever actually had true Lucian food? Maybe he’s changed his tune.”

“As far as Libs is concerned, there’s no such thing as _true_ Lucian food.”

Noctis rolled his eyes and slurped up his soup, spiting any and all of Libertus’s distant criticisms by being as loud as he was allowed whilst in polite company. While Nyx would surely scorn ever being referred to as “polite company,” he owed it to the other patrons in the shop not to be a nuisance.

“Well, you can tell Libertus that there is nothing fake about this. And he can challenge my princely authority on that. In single combat, preferably.”

“That’s treason, Your Highness.”

“This soup is treason. For not being dinner every night of my life.”

Nyx laughed, spearing a glistening cut of garula onto his fork. He’d ordered the spiciest soup on the menu as a matter of Galahdian principle. And while it wasn’t the traditional island fare he’d been missing from home, it was still a damn good soup for a wet spring day. A sweet and spicy golden broth drenching thin white noodles and neat spears of green onions, with thick cuts of brined meat and liquid gold eggs sitting abed. He’d adorned it with hot scarlet zig-zags of the spicy sauce served alongside the bowl, effectively banishing the cold plaster of the rain from his bones.

“I honestly wouldn’t have thought there were enough soup recipes in the world to cover an entire menu like this,” Nyx said.

“I know, right? Don’t ever let Gladio know that I prefer this over Cup Noodles, he’ll wreck my ass.”

“I take great issue with that. Your ass is mine and I am not sharing wrecking privileges over it.”

“Nyx, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Noctis tried to keep his expression neutral – today was supposed to be _his_ triumph, damnit; not Nyx’s. But Nyx made it hard not to smile, exaggerating a wiggle of his brows that crinkled the edges of his eyes and turned his tattoos up into tiny smiles. It was all Noctis could do not to snort seafood broth up his nose.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re adorable. Ass and all.”

Noctis rolled his eyes and retreated into his bowl, lest he enable Nyx’s inner teenager even more. He managed to curb the worst of it by keeping the small talk just that: small. But by the time they were finished eating and they’d both run out of words trading praise for the unseen soup chef, Nyx was ready to flirt his way through the rain.

“No chance of waiting until it’s stopped, huh?” Noctis sighed after they’d finished paying (Noct’s treat, no matter how much Nyx insisted, the chivalrous dork).

“Hey, if _I_ had to walk through it to get here, _we’re_ going to have to walk through it to get out.”

Noctis snorted, rolled his eyes, and tried not to drop to the sidewalk laughing at the look on Nyx’s face when he pulled an umbrella out of the Armiger.

“Betrayed,” Nyx said, stone-faced. “Completely and utterly betrayed.”

“Forgive me and I’ll let you share.”

Nyx huffed, forfeiting any illusions of resentment to spare himself another sodden walk of shame. Noctis looked far too pleased with himself, but he deigned to show mercy and handed Nyx the umbrella, simply citing “tall person” as his reason for entrusting him with such a sacred tool.

Almost made Nyx regret running across the street with it.

“Nyx, what the hell!” Noctis cursed after him over the dense drumming of the rain.

“Sorry, baby! We’ve all got to suffer for our love sometime!”

“You are so full of shit!”

Noctis stood stranded on a little island of dry beneath the soup shop awning across the street. Nyx refused to feel guilty, twirling the umbrella over his head and baiting the prince into coming after him. The rain wasn’t as bad as it was before, anyway. It had been a downpour whereas now it was just a drizzle. And whereas Nyx had been reduced to a drowned rat, Noctis would merely be a very damp and very grumpy kitten.

“I could have you arrested for this,” Noctis called through the rain. “This counts as reckless endangerment, you know!”

“Well, someone’s got to keep Libs company for that single combat treason he’ll be arrested for, I suppose.”

Noctis sighed in extra dramatic fashion, turning his eyes skyward as if he could will Ramuh himself to cease his dribbling for the King to pass through. The gods may have been good to him in genetics, Nyx mused, but they were not feeling nearly as generous with the weather.

Noctis glared across the street at Nyx through the pale sheet of rain, two blue warning lights sparking with a violet trick. The distinct, smoky scent of the warp cut beneath the clean wash of the rain just a hair before Noctis came catapulting against Nyx’s chest in a phantom haze of blue and curses. Nyx caught him around the waist and laughed, holding the umbrella just out of reach as Noctis tried to reclaim it from him.

“You’re the worst,” Noctis crowed, rushing his hands through his hair where a sprinkling of raindrops had gotten caught.

“And you’re still adorable, don’t worry. C’mere.”

Nyx took him by the chin and drew him up for a kiss. Noctis smiled and tilted his head back, kissing between them as instinctive as the weather Nyx used to know from home. He tasted like rain and seafood, and while it was hardly the most romantic flavor for kissing, Nyx wouldn’t have had him any other way.

“I’ll give the movies one thing,” Nyx murmured, nosing along a droplet of rain slipping against the bridge of Noct’s nose. “Still think those kissing in the rain scenes are pretty romantic.”

“Is this your way of suggesting we marathon dumb romance movies all night?”

“I do owe you for the soup.”

Noctis smiled, looping his arms around Nyx’s neck just for the sake of holding him close, wet rat clothes and all.

“You owe me a lot more than that, hero.”


End file.
